Pike's Falls
by Swing Girl At Heart
Summary: AU. Kurt's planning to propose to Blaine, so he organizes the perfect romantic getaway. It doesn't go as planned.
1. Pike's Falls

_Pike's Falls_

"_God_, this place is green."

"I know."

"But it _is!_"

"Blaine, you've commented on the greenness at least fifty times since we crossed the border—"

"I have not."

"—using every word for 'green' from emerald to Kermit."

"Well, it's true," Blaine insisted. "Not even the wooded spots in Ohio were this green."

Kurt rolled his eyes with a smile. "Try not to get too excited," he said, leaning over to plant a kiss on Blaine's cheek.

"Don't distract the driver," Blaine grinned, keeping his eyes on the road ahead. Lush green vegetation – oak, pine, maple, a thick carpet of ferns – hugged the road on both sides, the overhanging branches making the midday summer sun flicker against the windshield of the Jeep.

Kurt sat back in his seat. "So, are we stopping for lunch?" he asked, glancing at the road map. "We should hit Montgomery in a little while."

"Absolutely," Blaine agreed. "I'm _starving_ and I want a gigantic slice of homemade apple pie."

Kurt snorted. "When I suggested Vermont as a vacation spot I didn't think you'd be geeking out over every little rustic detail," he observed bemusedly.

"Hey, those 'rustic details' are exactly what's making this a vacation," Blaine countered.

Kurt laughed and leaned his head back, watching the woods whiz past. Blaine was right – this was the greenest place they'd ever seen. Of course, neither of them had been to many other places besides Ohio and New York City, but still.

Fiddling with the tiny box hidden away inside his sweatshirt pocket, Kurt's heart lurched in anticipation of the weekend. He and Blaine had been together since high school – almost ten years at this point – and Kurt figured that was enough evidence to prove their relationship wasn't just a lingering teenage infatuation. He and Blaine had talked about getting married, of course – after all it was _legal _now – and he was reasonably sure that Blaine would say yes, but that didn't make Kurt any less anxious. He wanted it to be perfect. It _had_ to be perfect.

They stopped for lunch in Montgomery, which wasn't much more than a main street, pulling into the parking lot of what seemed to be the only restaurant in town. Kurt glanced at the tourist brochure, surprised to see that Montgomery was actually mentioned. "Hard to believe there's two thousand people in this town," he remarked, glancing at the population statistics.

"Must be really spread out," Blaine agreed, climbing out of the car. Kurt shoved the map and guides onto the dashboard, jumping down from the Jeep as Blaine locked the doors.

Inside the diner, there were only a few people scattered around the booths, mostly with a distinct lumberjack-esque appearance. There was one waitress making her rounds and filling coffee cups, and she smiled brightly at them.

"You boys can seat yourselves," she told them sweetly as she went behind the counter to return the coffee pot to its hot plate.

They took a small table by the window and the waitress came over to give them their menus. "You tourists?" she asked.

Blaine smiled while Kurt scanned the food options (not a lot of vegetarian meals, he noticed dryly). "Yeah, we're up from New York."

"Oh, wow. This must be a little different than what you're used to," the waitress chuckled. Her nametag read _CAROLE_ and flashed a little in the sunlight through the window. "Are you staying at the inn?" She gestured to the small bed-and-breakfast across the street.

"Actually, we're camping," Blaine explained. "Out by Pike's Falls."

Carole's eyebrows shot up. "Well, so long as you're careful," she said. "The woods around here aren't always friendly to strangers. Can I get you some coffee?"

"Sure."

"Decaf, please," Kurt smiled, and Carole headed back for the counter.

"I like this place," Blaine said, looking out the window at the sparsely populated street. A woman and her baby were sitting on the grassy area across the road, and a couple more people were walking the sidewalks. A group of teenagers on BMX bikes rode past, laughing.

"You like every place we go to," Kurt remarked, still perusing the meal choices.

"That's not true," Blaine countered. "I hated Alphabet City."

"That doesn't count – we were there for work, and it was only for a couple of hours."

"No, _you_ were there for work," Blaine retorted with a grin. "I just tagged along because I was promised a date but you had an emergency case."

Kurt shrugged. "What can I say? The firm thinks I'm indispensable."

"That's 'cause you are." Blaine winked.

"Save that for the tent."

* * *

Pike's Falls was off the beaten track, to say the least. They drove for twenty minutes outside Montgomery before they reached the turnoff point, and the 'road' they turned onto was little more than a hiking trail. The Jeep jostled and bumped and bucked as Blaine navigated through the trees for two and a half miles, finally coming to a stop on the ridge of a small hill where the 'road' seemed to vanish.

"Are we here?" Kurt asked, frowning at the map. "I can't tell if they've just neglected to maintain the trail or if we're supposed to be on foot from here."

The idea of hiking through a forest didn't bother him now as much as it would have ten years ago – he'd brought sturdy hiking shoes and left his extensive collection of high-end fashion at home. He'd packed only the clothes he normally used for lazy weekends at home or going to the gym – plain t-shirts, sweatpants, shorts, anything built for comfort rather than fashion. They were in the middle of nowhere; Kurt had no reason to be dressed up.

"I'll look around," Blaine said, hopping out of the Jeep and leaving Kurt to study the map.

Blaine disappeared over the lip of the hill into the vegetation, reappearing only a few seconds later and yanking Kurt's door open. "Kurt! We're here! Come on!"

Kurt tossed the map onto the driver's seat and followed Blaine, his breath leaving his lungs in a _whoosh_ as the vegetation opened up only fifteen feet beyond the car, revealing a wide pond, accented by a series of small-ish waterfalls coming down the slope to their left and the towering oaks lining the pond's edge. A stream spilled over the far edge of the pond, running downhill. The water in the pond was lacking of any disgusting-looking algae and instead was crystal clear – clearly very deep in the center and about fifty yards from side to side. Kurt was tempted to call it a lake.

"Oh…" he sighed. "It's _perfect_."

Blaine grinned and hugged Kurt around the shoulders. "Come on, let's get the gear out of the car."

* * *

Blaine set up the tent while Kurt organized everything they'd brought with them – the cooler full of food, the wide sleeping bag meant for two, the small backpacks of clothes, various other small necessities.

"I saw a pay shower in town," Blaine said as he clicked the tent poles together. "We won't have to stink on the way back after all."

"Oh, trust me, I was going to bathe in the pond if necessary," Kurt retorted. "And I'd shove you in, too. No way I'm going to endure your rustic body odor for the entire drive back to New York."

Blaine snorted, hammering a peg into the ground. A dog barked in the distance, and Kurt looked up. The sound had been distorted through the trees and he couldn't tell which direction it had come from.

"Are we really that close to town?" he asked.

"Huh?"

"I heard a dog barking."

Blaine shrugged, pulling the rain cover over the tent. "I didn't hear anything," he said. "But maybe it just got loose. Or someone's out hunting."

"It's not deer season – I checked."

Blaine grinned wolfishly at him. "You only looked it up to make sure we wouldn't have to wear orange."

"I don't care if it's to stop us from getting shot. I will not wear orange."

"I'm going to get you a blindingly orange jacket for your next birthday," Blaine said, coming over to sit on the ground next to where Kurt was working. "And then you'll be forced to wear it in public just to make your perfect boyfriend happy."

"And they will never find your body," Kurt replied smoothly.

Blaine laughed and brushed the dirt off his knees. "Come on," he said, yanking off his shirt and shorts. "I've always wanted to skinny-dip under a waterfall."

As they swam and splashed and dunked each other below the surface, the sounds of the waterfall made it impossible to hear the dog barking.


	2. Jackdaw

_Jackdaw_

As night fell, Kurt and Blaine wrapped themselves in their joint sleeping bag, still smelling of the mineral-rich pond water while the sounds of the forest at night surrounded the tent. The waterfall seemed quieter now that the moon was up, and an owl hooted somewhere off in the trees. The crickets' shrill chirps sounded louder than anything else, even the warbled croaking of the frogs.

Kurt breathed deeply, his body curled against Blaine's back, his arm draped over Blaine's middle and their legs entwined. Blaine was already asleep, but Kurt was still wide awake. He couldn't figure out if that was because of the lack of New York City nightlife or because of the tiny box he'd hidden in his backpack, away from Blaine's sight. The ring inside it was a simple band of gold – nothing fancy – but Kurt couldn't keep his mind off it.

He had to do it tomorrow, before his nerves were shot.

He could do this.

As he finally drifted off to sleep with his face pressed against the back of Blaine's neck, the dog barked again in the distance.

* * *

In the early morning, Kurt was woken by the rush of the waterfall and he lay still in the sleeping bag, his limbs tangled with Blaine's. At some point during the night Blaine had shifted to turn around and rest his head on Kurt's chest, snoring lightly. Kurt stayed where he was until the weight of Blaine's head started to hurt a little, and he nudged Blaine aside, trying to pull away without waking him. Blaine only mumbled and rolled over as Kurt nimbly slid out of the sleeping bag and stepped out of the tent into the brisk morning air.

A thin layer of moisture sparkled on the ground, having collected during the cool night, and it soaked Kurt's feet as he went to the pond's edge to splash water on his face. There was a loud screech, and he looked up in time to see a red-tailed hawk drop out of one of the trees on the far side of the pond, snatching a frog out of the shallows and shooting back up into the air, vanishing over the treetops.

The cool air blew gently against the water on his cheeks and refreshed him as he set about getting the fire going. He wasn't that great at it, but that's what matches and newspapers were for. Before long, he had a small blaze going inside the stone circle Blaine had built the previous evening, and he set the small cooking grate over the flames. He opened up the cooler with the intent of toasting a couple of bagels with cheese for breakfast, but he recoiled when he saw that somehow the bugs had found their way past the cooler lid.

_Perfectly sealed, my ass,_ he thought, grimacing at the ants and roly-poly beetles feasting on the bread, sausages, and cheese. They'd have to go back into town for breakfast, then, and for a new cooler. For now, Kurt took the crappy cooler a little ways into the woods and dumped it onto the ground, making sure to collect all the plastic bags and containers and leaving only the perishables behind.

He heard the dog bark yet again, still ricocheting through the trees but seeming closer now than it had yesterday.

Kurt brushed off his hands and stuck his head into the tent. "Blaine, time to wake up," he called, grabbing his backpack and pulling out a fresh change of clothes. Blaine groaned into the pillow, saying something that sounded akin to "five more minutes…" but was too muffled to be intelligible.

"Come on," Kurt said, patting Blaine on the back of his thigh. "You want breakfast?"

Blaine finally raised his head, perking up at the mention of food. "Only if there's sausages involved," he said groggily.

"Absolutely. But you have to get up first." Kurt went back outside and changed his clothes in the open air, Blaine finally emerging from his little cave as Kurt was pulling on a pair of cargo shorts. He frowned at the sight of the empty cooking grate.

"I thought you said there were sausages," he pouted, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

Kurt chuckled. Blaine was the deepest sleeper he knew, and it took a long time for him to be fully awake. "As it turns out, that five-star cooler we bought was really only worth about one and a half stars, so our food stash now belongs to the forest."

"Oh," Blaine yawned, and Kurt was fairly sure that Blaine hadn't heard a word he'd said.

"Come on," he said, planting a quick wake-up kiss on Blaine's mouth. "I'm starving."

* * *

They drove back into town and ate again at the diner (Carole made sure to ask if their night in the woods was okay), stopping by the general store afterwards to pick up a replacement cooler and fill it with food.

"This would be a great place to live," Blaine said, sipping the last of his coffee-to-go and leaning against the counter as the general store cashier added up their total.

Kurt raised his eyebrows, rifling through his wallet. "What, permanently?"

"Sure. I like the people here."

"What would we _do_, though?"

Blaine shrugged. "Open up a store. Buy a farm. I don't know."

Kurt gave him a look. "A farm, Blaine? Really?"

Blaine smiled, ducking his head. "Okay, fair point. But _still_."

"Let's keep it in mind for when we're sixty-five," Kurt said as he paid the cashier.

"How about thirty-five?"

"Blaine," Kurt said patiently, hefting the full cooler off the counter. Blaine tossed his empty coffee cup into the trashcan by the door and took the cooler off Kurt's hands. Kurt squeezed his shoulder. "How about we just have a great weekend together, and once we're back in New York we can talk about it?"

Blaine smiled. "Sure. On one condition."

"What's that?"

"I'm a little upset that we haven't gone all _Brokeback Mountain_ up by the Falls yet." He gave Kurt the wolfish grin that always made Kurt's heart lurch in anticipation of what it indicated.

Kurt smiled wryly back. "The second we get back to the tent," he promised.

(He might have driven a little faster on the return trip.)

* * *

Later, the two of them lay in the tent, still sweaty and unclothed and wrapped around each other in the warm summer air seeping through the tent walls. Blaine nuzzled Kurt's nose and gave him a chaste kiss before sitting up. "I'm going for a swim," he said. "Care to join me?"

Kurt let out a contented sigh, his muscles still feeling a little wobbly as they slowly came down from their ecstatic high. "Maybe in a little bit," he said. "I think I'll just take a quick nap before lunch."

Blaine kissed him one more time before standing up and exiting the tent stark naked. There was a splash a moment later, quickly followed by a whoop as Blaine adjusted to the temperature of the water. Kurt stuck a hand underneath his head and shut his eyes, allowing himself to doze as he was lulled by the rushing of the waterfall outside and the lingering feel of Blaine's hands and legs and body. His thoughts flashed back to the ring sitting in its tiny box.

_Tonight. After dinner. I'll do it then._

What jolted Kurt awake a few minutes later wasn't something he expected. A dog was barking – now it was _loud _and _close_. He could hear voices, too.

"Can I help you guys?" he heard Blaine call from outside.

Sitting up, he quickly pulled on his cargo shorts and grabbed his t-shirt, yanking it over his head as he walked out of the tent. Blaine was still in the pond and he had waded close enough to the edge so that he was only covered up to his waist. He wasn't climbing out. They were no longer alone.

Standing only about thirty feet down the shoreline from the tent was a group of teenagers, all of them standing with BMX bikes. One of them was holding the leash of the barking dog, which was at least half Doberman and had its teeth bared. Kurt counted five boys and two girls, and he vaguely remembered seeing them pedal past the diner the day before.

"Can we help you?" Kurt asked, echoing Blaine's already stated question. He took a few steps towards them, but the dog snarled and pulled at its leash.

"Just exploring," said one of the boys airily. He was a big guy – tall, small-eyed and chubby but also looking like he knew how to handle himself. Most of the boys were big – the one sporting a thick Mohawk appeared to be older than twenty, with bulging biceps, and another was six-foot-four at least. Only one of them, hanging towards the back and seeming a little nervous, like he wasn't supposed to be there, was smaller and still bearing some baby fat.

The tall, sleek boy who held the dog's leash and wore a smug expression that looked like it was permanently etched into his face glanced over the pond to Blaine. "What are you staying in there for?" he called. "We don't bite."

Blaine shrugged. "I don't like dogs very much," he answered diplomatically.

The boy cocked his head. "Are you insulting my dog?"

"No," Blaine replied smoothly. "Just a preference is all."

Kurt frowned. He could easily see that these kids were looking for trouble, and he knew Blaine could see it too. "Where are your parents?" he inquired, keeping his tone as light as he could.

One of the girls – a slender Latina with her black hair pulled back into a harsh ponytail – rolled her eyes. "What are you, a teacher?" she sneered.

"No, but we're a long ways from town," Kurt said carefully. "Are you sure you should be this far out?"

The other girl pursed her lips and spoke in a high, nasally register. "We know these woods a lot better than you," she insisted. "And guys as gay as you probably don't know what to do if a bear shows up or something like that. We don't have wild Care Bears here." She paused for a second. "Sorry," she laughed, not sounding apologetic at all. "Asperger's."

"Shut up, Sugar," the boy holding the dog leash snapped.

Sugar stuck her tongue out at the back of his head, a gesture that he either didn't see or ignored.

"Well," Kurt started, crossing his arms. "We were actually hoping for a bit of privacy for the weekend—"

"You don't own these woods, you know," said the boy with the leash, quickly establishing himself as the leader of the pack. "It's a state park."

"I'm aware of that. But you could already be written up for harassment," Kurt replied evenly. Having a law degree certainly had its perks. And it didn't matter that technically the kids hadn't done anything yet to warrant a report – Kurt could see they were headed in that direction. Better to nip it in the bud so that he and Blaine could get back to their perfect, private weekend.

The boy narrowed his eyes, still wearing a smug grin that made Kurt's fingers twitch. "You know what?" he said. "Sure. We'll let you guys have your little pink triangle of peace." He turned to the rest of his group, nodding pointedly in the other direction. They all began to steer their BMXs back where they'd come from.

The boy with the dog gave Kurt and Blaine one last once-over, as if he were sizing them up, before tugging on the leash and following his friends.

_Minions, more like_, Kurt thought snidely. He shook his head as the kids disappeared back into the vegetation. Blaine was finally climbing out of the water and reaching for a towel to cover himself up just in case they came back.

"Still loving the people?" Kurt asked him.

"Oh, come on," Blaine laughed. "They're kids. Harmless."


	3. Raid

_Raid  
_

Just as Kurt expected, the kids returned with their bikes and the dog only a few hours later, much to Kurt and Blaine's annoyance. This time the boy with the Mohawk was carrying a boom box (Kurt hadn't seen a boom box in _years_, but this was far from any large city where the technology would be up to date), and within a couple minutes of their arrival it was obvious they intended to stay.

Kurt grimaced as the Mohawk switched on the boom box, blasting Judas Priest (seriously, what era were these kids from?) and laughing at something the Latina said, gesturing over her shoulder in Kurt and Blaine's direction. Despite the fact that the kids were camped out a good fifty feet away, the horrible '80s metal was at an almost painful and certainly irritating volume; they might as well have been squatting in the middle of Kurt and Blaine's campsite.

After putting up with it for about fifteen minutes, Kurt stood up from where he was eating lunch with Blaine by their fire pit and stalked over. "So this is what you call giving us privacy?" he demanded.

The narrow-faced sleek boy who had earlier established himself to be the leader of the group smiled thinly, pushing his sunglasses up his nose. "Sorry, I can't hear you," he said. The chubby boy and both the girls smirked.

Kurt pressed his lips together, trying to keep his irritation as low as possible. They were teenagers; he was not. They were kids looking for trouble; he had a law degree.

He was not fighting for control; he had control.

"Please turn the music down," he said forcefully. "We don't care if you hang out here – just please lower the noise pollution."

That wasn't true – he did care. They were ruining what up until then had been the rare treasure – time for him to be with Blaine, alone, unbothered by calls from either of their respective workplaces (Blaine was usually on call in the emergency room, and Kurt always had random case problems to deal with even when he was supposed to be off-duty, so the majority of their private moments were prematurely brought to a halt).

Unfortunately, the kids were right. This was state-owned land and he and Blaine had no legal ability to tell the kids to relocate.

Unless, of course, they were eligible for harassment charges.

Kurt almost _wanted_ them to push enough buttons for him to have enough reason to approach the town sheriff.

"You want to talk about noise pollution?" the leader laughed, glancing over his shoulder at his cronies. Half of them were grinning along with him, and Kurt got a strange prickling on his arms, like they knew something he didn't. Even the dog seemed to be smirking.

"Show him, Sebastian," urged Sugar, bouncing eagerly where she sat.

The boy, Sebastian, gave an odd predatory smile and pulled an iPhone out of his pocket (finally, something that fit the current year). Mohawk switched the boom box off, and Kurt didn't have to look behind to know that Blaine was watching the exchange carefully for any sign of real trouble. Sebastian held up the phone and tapped the screen once.

Kurt's steely expression almost instantaneously melted away in shock at the sounds that came out of the phone's speaker. It was tinny and laced with static (built-in Apple mics weren't that great, after all) but it was impossible not to recognize his own voice overlapping Blaine's.

"_Oh, god, yes – faster – yes…_"

"_B-Blaine, I'm so close – ahh!_"

Sebastian's thin-lipped smile stretched as he stopped the recording. "I could actually have _you_ written up for engaging in sexual activity within ten feet of more than one minor," he said smoothly, like it was something he'd been planning. Kurt blinked. "My dad's the district attorney," Sebastian added with a wink. The others sniggered.

Kurt didn't realize his hands had curled into fists until the nails dug into his palms. This was no longer anywhere near the perfect day – it was beyond salvaging.

"That was _private_," he bit out, straining to keep his voice and temper in check.

_You're the adult, you're the adult, not them._

"And again, it's not your property," Sebastian countered. "Technically, it's a public place. That could easily get you a spot on the sex offenders registry."

Kurt's vision was tinged with red, but Blaine appeared by his side just before Kurt thought he might lose it altogether. "Is there a problem?" Blaine asked, glancing between Kurt and Sebastian.

"Just establishing boundaries," Sebastian replied, and Kurt had to physically restrain himself from punching the smug grin off his face.

"_Boundaries_?" he sputtered instead. "_This_ is what you call boundaries?" He lurched toward them with his fists clenched, but Blaine stopped him with a firm hand on his shoulder. "This is harassment!" he snarled.

Blaine pulled him back as several of the kids snorted. "Come on, Kurt, we'll just find another campsite. It's fine."

"I will not be bullied by a bunch of snot-nosed twelve-year-olds!" Kurt spat. Now, the group _had_ done enough to warrant official intervention, and Kurt seized the opportunity. "I'm taking this to the police or the sheriff or the park wardens or whoever the hell has jurisdiction."

Sebastian bared his teeth in a smile. "That would be my dad."

Kurt lurched forward again, opening his mouth to spew another string of threats. Several of the kids launched to their feet, ready to defend themselves. Kurt had been right – they were looking for a fight and were too eager to start one.

Blaine turned and pushed him back with a hand to Kurt's chest. "Let's not let this get out of hand," he said quickly, with a pointed look towards his boyfriend.

Kurt forced himself to take a deep breath. "Okay," he started, raking his fingers through his hair and not even bothering to care that it was beginning to stick up in several places. "Okay, here's the plan," he said. He made sure to look Sebastian directly in the eye. "You will _delete_ that recording—"

Sebastian, Sugar, Mohawk, the Latina, and the chubby boy all snickered.

"—and then you'll leave, so that we can have our weekend as planned."

Sebastian laughed, glancing out over the pond, unperturbed. "Sounds pretty one-sided to me."

"You do that, and I won't report you to the sheriff," Kurt said through gritted teeth. He really, _really _wanted to make them suffer the consequences.

_You're the adult, not them._

The small boy who hung towards the back of the group and didn't seem to belong spoke up for the first time, his voice lilted with a foreign accent. "That's not a bad deal, Sebastian."

"Shut it, Flanagan," Sebastian snapped. "What have I told you? We just keep you around for your Irish luck."

The Irish boy ducked his head, like a puppy reprimanded for making a mistake it didn't understand.

"What if we _don't_ delete it?" asked the chubby boy with a small-toothed scoff.

Kurt's eyes narrowed. "Then I _will_ report you to the sheriff, and you all can deal with the ramifications yourselves. How does that sound to you, Ham Hock?"

"I dunno how it is in the city," Ham Hock replied, "but up here everyone knows everyone. Sheriff's a personal friend."

"I wouldn't expect him to care," Kurt spat. "You've crossed the line. I'd step back if I were you."

Kurt's lawyer-talk, unfortunately, had no bearing on teenagers who had never even been out of high school, let alone to law school. The closest these kids had come to a courtroom was through their grainy-image TVs. This time, all of them except for the Irish boy laughed loudly. The dog snuffed and edged towards Kurt with its hackles raised.

Then, Sebastian stood up, still grinning but pulling his dog back. "Fine," he said. "Wouldn't want to bother the Sheriff from his _busy_ day."

The rest of them snorted at that, but followed Sebastian's lead and began to edge away in the direction of the dirt road. Mohawk shouldered the boom box and the group mounted their BMXs, pedaling up the short slope and disappearing into the vegetation. Only Sebastian hung back, the Doberman standing attentively by his legs.

Flashing Kurt and Blaine one last knowing smirk, Sebastian raised his hand in a mocking salute, then was swallowed up by the trees.


End file.
